


Searchlight

by wiseplant



Series: Until the End of Everything [1]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: (and go), Alternate Universe - Criminals, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Assassins & Hitmen, Bandits & Outlaws, Blood and Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, On the Run, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-11-29 19:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11447502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiseplant/pseuds/wiseplant
Summary: There are two types of people in this world. The ones that run away from death, feigning ignorance of its existence, and the ones who allow death to hang over their heads as the moon does in the sky, using its presence as inspiriting reassurance.Tyler and Josh like to think themselves to be the latter. Without dying, there can be no living.





	Searchlight

**Author's Note:**

> i'm excited to get this one out of my head, hopefully i can eloquently put it all into words.
> 
> inspired by the bonnie and clyde story and shakespeare's romeo and juliet, only made gay because everything is better that way.

_"The road was so dimly lighted_  
_there were no highway signs to guide._  
_But they made up their minds;_  
_if all roads were blind,_  
_they wouldn't give up till they died._

 _The road gets dimmer and dimmer_  
_sometimes you can hardly see,_  
_But it's fight man to man_  
_and do all you can,_  
_for they know they can never be free."_

 

_~_

 

The moon hangs low in the sky, a waxing crescent, casting a glow on concrete; the only source of light in the secluded lot.

Lips meet as soon as the weapons are equipped, hands cradling cheeks. An exchange that conveys the shared knowledge that it could be their last. They kiss in no other way.

"We've got this, baby." he whispers. "Target practice."

Masks are pulled over their faces, red and blue. Blood and veins. When the masks are on, their brains are changed. They become characters on a stage. Adrenaline begins to flood through them and their breath shakes.

A gun clicks. They approach the entrance of the building, and he nods. They won’t be expecting visitors tonight. Eyes are immediately on them as the doors open.

"What the fuck?" a man yelps. The other people immediately rise in action. "Thought you two bastards were in the slammer!"

The couple aim their weapons at the man as a response, letting their guns do the talking.

Words can be manipulated and arranged and lead into making agreements that shouldn’t be made, and trusting people that shouldn’t be trusted. They've since learned their lesson; no one else can be trusted. Each other is all they have. And it’s enough.

Two men lunge at the both of them. One drops to the ground instantaneously, blood leaking out of the hole in his head, while the other takes a blade to his gut.

A gunfight commences and bodies steadily hit solid ground. Gunshots, accompanied by the pounding in their ears is the deafening soundtrack to this show.

Focused and steady, they take out each target, one after the other. It’s almost robotic and inhuman.

Gunfire begins to cease as the last body falls, and their eyes find each other's, a silent confirmation of their safety and agreement to proceed.

They try not to look too long at the bodies on the ground. They try not to think about how just moments ago those bodies were living, breathing human beings with thoughts and feelings. They try not to remember that they are the ones who took their lives away.

But these men weren't innocent. They know what they got themselves into, they were prepared to kill and to be killed. They chose this life, just as the masked lovers did. That is what allows them to sleep at night.

There are two types of people in this world. The ones that run away from death, feigning ignorance of its existence, and the ones who allow death to hang over their heads as the moon does in the sky, using its presence as inspiriting reassurance.

Tyler and Josh like to think themselves to be the latter. Without dying, there can be no living. 

In a room in the back lies the snow and the crystals, the resolution, the grand finale. They take what is owed to them and swiftly leave the premises, shutting away duffel bags in the trunk, and taking to the highway.

It won't be long until the remains of their newest stage show are discovered and they will be hunted, like a dog chasing rabbits. It's a dangerous game, but if you know the rules you'll never really lose.

Hands find each other across the console, needing each other's touch to bring them back to ground. One-handed driving comes as a second nature to them.

The highway is virtually deserted at this time of night, only passing a few cars every so often. Still, they feel tense, like they're hanging off the edge of a cliff. They nervously sneak glimpses of the rear view mirror.  
  
They are miles away when they finally remove their masks. By the light provided by the moon and the streetlamps, Tyler watches as Josh pulls off his red mask with one hand, revealing the red locks that are bright even in the dim light. His hair makes him stick out like a sore thumb, but he never did like normalcy. He always talks about wanting to get a galaxy and the sky tattooed on his arm. Tyler wouldn't have him any other way. He is his source of color in this dull, black and white world.

Josh shifts his eyes off the long stretch of road to glance back at him, taking a hand off the steering to slot their hands together again.

"You okay?" he squeezes his hand.

Tyler squeezes back, nodding.

"I love you." Tyler says, the only thing he can think of doing to encapsulate the way he’s feeling. But those three little words merely scratch the surface. There are possibly, no words he can say, nothing he could do that would show the extent of his love.

Josh's mouth twitches into a small smile as he watches the road. "I love you." he mirrors, bringing their hands to his face and kissing Tyler's knuckles affectionately.

Tyler turns to gaze out the window, still holding his hand. The silver moon appears to follow them closely, and stars litter the clear desert sky. So many stars are visible without the influx of light pollution. He wishes he and Josh could pull over, lie on the hood of their car and appreciate them, and Josh could teach him all the constellations.

But rule number one of the game is the rabbits can't get distracted, they must adopt the focus of a pouncing tiger, or a hawk lurking from above. The hares must run without stopping to look behind them.

"How long will it take?" Tyler asks after a while.

"All night, probably. Get some sleep, okay? I slept more than you last night."

Though he aches to sleep on a comfortable bed, tangled up with Josh, cuddled into his chest, he nods tiredly, pulling off his shoes and curling up in the passenger's seat. He leans his head against the console, holding Josh's hand to his cheek as he allows sleep to take him.

He dreams of bullet wounds, blood pooling around bright red hair, and lifeless mocha eyes boring into his own.  

Sleep is a rather cruel, condescending close friend of death's.

*

Tyler awakens to a hand slowly caressing his face, a voice speaking to him softly. He opens his eyes abruptly in panic but relaxes when he sees Josh's face in the faint light.

"We're at a motel in Nevada." he whispers. "Come on."

Tyler tries to blink himself into consciousness, letting out a groan as he sits up from his position on the seat, neck and back stiff. It's about four in the morning. The world is tinted in a dark blue, the sun just beginning to make its daily rounds on this side of the Earth.

Tyler follows Josh closely behind as he unlocks the door to their room.

They're met with a small end table and two chairs, an outdated TV, a small bathroom at the back of the room, and most importantly, a full size bed. They hadn't slept in an actual bed in so long.

The blankets on the bed look old and worn, the whole room in its entirety looks like it hasn't been changed since the seventies, but nothing has ever looked more inviting.

They leave their shared bag by the door after making sure that it's locked, and both collapse onto the bed. Josh draws Tyler to him, lifting his chin to press their mouths together, lips moving together leisurely.

They end up making love lazily underneath the covers, back to chest. Josh has an arm around Tyler's middle, whispering sweet nothings into his hair as he thrusts into him deeply, allowing them to feel every inch of each other, relishing in it. Tyler lets out breathy little moans, the sweetest of sounds.

And just for a moment, they are not being hunted after, there is no targets on their heads, or blood on their hands. They are safe in their own world where only they exist.

They reach climax simultaneously, gasping into each other's mouths. Sleep takes over soon after. The nightmares don't return this time. 

  
*

Sunshine streaming through the blinds is what coaxes Tyler from sleep first and initially everything is warm. Streaks of sunlight are on his face, Josh's chest rises and falls against Tyler's back comfortingly as he holds him, and for a moment he feels at peace.

The moment is short-lived as he regains total consciousness and a feeling of dread strikes him at the realization that they've slept too long. They should have been gone before the sun had risen too high in the sky. He peers at the clock on the bedside table, confirming his fears.

He squirms in his lover's arms, always hating to wake him from his peaceful slumber. But they need to leave, as soon as possible. The rabbits cannot stay in one place for too long.

"Josh, we have to go." he says quietly, a bad feeling sitting in the pit of his stomach. He squeezes Josh's arm and watches as he blinks awake.

"What's the matter? What time is it?" Josh asks groggily, sitting up.

"It's almost noon. We have to go." Tyler repeats anxiously.

They get dressed and leave without a trace, back on desert road.

The nervous feeling still hasn't left Tyler. His hands shake as he grips the steering wheel. Josh offers to drive again, but Tyler knows he's still tired so he insists he try to sleep some more until they reach a restaurant or the next gas station.

Josh falls asleep almost instantly, his quiet snores filling the silence.

Tyler carefully keeps his eyes on the road in front of him, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He can feel a panic attack creeping up on him, so he focuses on Josh's soft snores, the way the steering wheel feels under his hands, and the hills he can see in the distance, trying his best to chase away the intrusive thoughts.

They ran out of anxiety meds a while ago, and Tyler was beginning to feel the affects of it.

Before he knows it, Tyler has been driving for about an hour and other than passing a few other cars along the way--truck drivers, people road tripping or vacationing families in RVs, nothing has changed in the past hour. The desert named Mojave is lifeless, despite the vibrant star shining high in its sky. The mountains never seem to get any closer.

Tyler feels out of his body, and rather he's hovering above himself in another form, a way the brain tries to save itself from itself. He's functioning on autopilot.

Miles of Joshua trees, cacti, and arid land later, he sees something ahead, just on the left of the horizon. Tyler watches it as it comes closer and closer into view.

Off to the side of the road, is an old roadhouse diner and a small, desolate town up ahead.

Tyler pulls into the lot and the lack of motion causes Josh to stir awake.

The bell above the door of the roadhouse dings in their entrance. A middle-aged woman with graying brown hair appears behind the counter, offering them a friendly smile as they tentatively sit at the counter in front of her.

"Good afternoon." she greets cheerfully. "Would you like some coffee, tea, or beer?"

Tyler orders coffee for the both of them. The woman slides over a couple menus to them before turning to get their drinks.

"Let me know what else I could get you."

Josh rests his cheek against his fist, furrowing his eyebrows slightly as he looks over the menu, sleep still heavy in his eyes.

Soft country music comes from the kitchen. Steady breathing and light clatter are the only signs of life. Reality is put on pause in this diner.

Stagnancy and quiet should be comforting, but it isn't. A storm looms over them; this is foreseeably the calm before it.

The woman sets their drinks down in front of them and takes their orders, disappearing into the kitchen.

Tyler and Josh drink their coffee in silence.

Josh reaches out to rest his hand on Tyler's thigh, rubbing reassuringly. He quickly removes it when the hostess comes back.

"We'll have your food ready shortly. Sorry, we’re a bit slow, it's just Jim and I workin' right now."

"It's alright."

"We rarely get customers afternoon. Usually it's early mornings or late nights, mostly truckers." she explains.

The pair nod understandingly.

"So, you two on a road trip?” she begins casually, but then the corners of her mouth pull into a knowing smile. “Or a honeymoon, maybe?"

Tyler and Josh immediately tense up, caught off guard, but there's no venom in her words.

"Um, we're uh... we're not-"

"You don't have to lie." she interrupts. "I can tell. You two look at each other like you're seein' colors for the first time. Love like that is a rare thing."

The couple smile shyly, a bit taken aback.

Josh clears his throat. "Uh, thank you, ma’am"

The waitress smiles brightly, mauve pink lipstick on her lips. "You're welcome." she says sincerely before leaving to go back into the kitchen.

Tyler and Josh share an incredulous look. People who've figured out that they are romantically involved are usually not as kind.

The waitress comes back a moment later, balancing two plates in her hands.

"I've gotta ask, how long have you two been together?" she inquires as she sets down their plates in front of them.

"Twelve years." Tyler answers proudly.

"You look real young. High school sweethearts, then? That's cute." she beams. "Keep each other."

The waitress's friendly, cheerful demeanor puts them at ease and Josh grins, pressing a quick kiss to Tyler's cheek before turning to his plate. They quickly eat their breakfast, not having had a freshly cooked meal in so long, not counting the barely edible meat and vegetable mush they ate in prison.

They are about to call over the waitress to thank and tip when the bell rings, signaling someone’s arrival. Reality resumes before they have a chance to look back. Tyler and Josh reach for each other reflexively, pulling each other down to the ground as gunshots erupt.

They take cover behind the counter, readying the handguns they keep on their person. Glasses and bottles behind them shatter to the floor.

“You’re dead men.” one of the shooters grumble darkly.

Josh dares to peer out above the counter, barrel first, shooting in the general direction of the voice. He decided he doesn’t like the man’s tone.

There is about five men, now one down stood out in the open in front of the roadhouse entrance, and other than a few small tables and chairs set by the windows, there is nowhere for them to take cover. Josh signals this information to Tyler before taking more blind shots from over the counter.

Bullets fly back and forth, more glass shatters and breaks.

The bottom of the bar counter they’re crouched behind is steadily starting to dent as bullets pierce it. The couple sneak glances from above the counter, seeing that three out of five remain.

Josh struggles to keep his focused assassin mindset as he grips his gun. Three targets still stand, all of which are equipped with various weapons when they only have one each with a very limited supply of bullets.

They should have known that the dogs were right behind them. But no matter how much distance is put between them, they are never really safe. They’ve never been safe. To them, safety is a feeling rather than a state of being. A feeling that is often short lived these days, but is why their love hasn’t burned out. Why they have no doubts.

A crash coming from the back of the roadhouse is heard over the gunshots.

“Check the back entrance!” A man yells.

The couple share a fearful look. The waitress and the cook will be killed with no hesitation. Though they were trained the same as these men, Tyler and Josh could never find it in themselves to kill innocents.

They crouch closer to the end of the bar, waiting for one of the shooters to pass by to get to the kitchen while still shooting at the others over the counter to make it appear as though they are distracted.

Heavy footsteps come around the corner and the shooter points aim at them. It’s a matter of speed, how fast the brain can make the body react. Strange how it all comes down to that. They pull the trigger at the same time.

Maybe it’s luck, maybe it’s fate, or maybe it’s the universe’s way of saying ‘not today’, that the couple dodge the bullet while the bullet shot by them pierces through the shooter’s forehead.

Now it’s two on two. They look above, but there’s only one.

Blinded by rage, he dares to come closer, but is quickly met with bullets in his shoulder. He yells, attempting to raise his gun now. He can’t.

“ _La Jefa_ is coming for you.” he grits out. “And she will do more than just kill you.”

Those are the last words the unnamed man speaks. Likely to be a criminal pulled off the streets who needed something to believe in, something to believe in him. He died a follower.

In the back, a gunshot comes after a blood curdling scream, then another. They enter the room, and it’s too late. The final gunman, back turned, leaning over his victims, is killed as he kills, without hesitance.

Once it’s made sure that there is no one left, Tyler and Josh fall into each other’s arms, this was a close call, and they weren’t really prepared at all.

“We’re okay now. We’re okay.” The respective battle mindsets begin to fade, and they allow themselves to be vulnerable.

Tyler lets out a gasp suddenly, pulling away from Josh. His eyes trail over his body, examining.

“Josh, you’re bleeding!” he says shakily.

Josh looks down at himself, seeing red on his side, seeping through his white t-shirt.

Tyler hurriedly reaches for the hem of his shirt, carefully pulling it up and off of him, revealing the wound.

The skin on his side, just above his hip is a graze from a bullet. It’s not too deep, and the skin isn’t torn up too much, but Tyler is still concerned. He looks around for some supplies, and finds some napkins and half a bottle of whiskey from the bar.

Tyler gets to work, wiping away the excess blood with a napkin before pouring a bit of the whiskey onto a clean napkin and gently dabbing it clean.

Josh lets out a low hiss as the alcohol makes contact with the wound.

“Sorry,” Tyler soothes. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“Not too bad, just burns a little. I didn’t even feel it at first.”

Tyler hums, tearing a strip of Josh’s t-shirt and using it to tie around his body and hold a napkin in place over the graze.

“Thanks, love.” Josh murmurs when he’s finished.

Tyler just nods, slipping his hand in Josh’s bigger one. He slowly walks closer to the kitchen, seeing the bodies of the waitress and the cook on the floor, lifeless and nameless.

They only got caught in a crossfire of the fight of a couple of strangers, nothing to do with them. The couple can’t help but feel responsible and guilty.

“She didn’t… they didn’t deserve to die.” Tyler says quietly.

Josh draws in a shaky breath. “I know,” He puts an arm around Tyler, turning him away from the sight and into his chest and kisses his hair. “But we have to go. There’s nothing we can do now.”

They walk away from the scene where broken glass windows gleam, the sun beginning to set against the orange and blue desert sky.

_Death encourages life, but no one wants to die when it’s not their time. The question is, who decides when it’s your time? And how is it justified?_

**Author's Note:**

> part two will be the backstory. comments will motivate me to write it faster, just fyi :)


End file.
